


Al Fresco

by fictorium (orphan_account)



Series: Texts From Last Night [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Cheating, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Mentions of het nonsense, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 16:29:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1717175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/fictorium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
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</p>
            </blockquote>





	Al Fresco

"Fuck destiny," Emma rasps, fingers faster now between Regina's thighs, the pace just short of relentless and despite her best efforts, Regina knows she can't hold out much longer. This dance of denial, of pretending that Emma can't play her body like the bards of old plucked at their lutes, only adds to the force of her climax when she comes. They push each other, a little further each time, and it’s becoming impossible to stop.

"Fuck destiny," Emma repeats, her mouth scalding against the cool, bare skin of Regina's collarbone, and it's that and the press of her thumb that has Regina arching, scrabbling, almost screaming if not for the lingering fear that someone will find them. 

"Seriously," Emma pants, moving to Regina's side, uncaring that the leaves are dry but the soil is still slightly damp. Her tanktop is ruched up around her neck, because their touching had been too urgent (too desperate) for fully undressing. "Fuck destiny, Regina. What did it ever get me? Except for a lifetime of begging for scraps, a jail sentence, and ten fucking years without my kid? Our kid."

"You could argue it brought you to me, too." 

It certainly brought Regina to the woods on the false pretense of being angry about Emma’s treatment of Henry, some trifle about homework and grounding that they both saw through in an instant. It’s a pattern they’ve discovered. One or the other snaps, willpower evaporated when the world pushes them just a little too hard. The call is made, the door is knocked, the text is sent and not very long after they’re losing clothes, losing inhibitions, and possibly losing the little that is left of their rational minds.

"Better that than some pirate being forced on me because my parents feel bad that they've got a new kid to love." Emma is particularly defiant today, and it only makes her more beautiful. Regina can feel the loose soil beneath her head, a large twig or skinny branch is digging into her lower back and she focuses on that irritation for a moment, bordering almost on pain until she shifts slightly in Emma’s possessive embrace.

"Better that than a husband who didn't love me. Or my first love killed before my eyes, and now a soulmate who means so well and cares so politely that I think I might drown myself, just to keep from screaming."

"First love," Emma repeats back, hoisting her weight onto one elbow, looking down over Regina. With her free hand, the fingers--still damp from enthusiastic fucking--now brush Regina's cheek. There's mud smeared there already, and Regina knows the shower she'll have to take an hour from now will be especially hot and especially long. She might stand under there until every drop of hot water is used. "You've never called... I mean..."

"I must have."

"No. When you talk about him--about Daniel--you always say 'my only love'. Trust me, I've been paying attention. Does that mean you love... him?"

"Robin?" Regina tries to stop herself, but the snort of amusement is genuine. "No. Fate binds me to the well-meaning thief, and his tattoo. It’s not really anything to do with love. As ever, happy endings are a little different for people like me."

"Henry, then? Different kind of love, but--"

"Miss Swan, you are being dense on purpose."

"Am not."

"And arguing like a five year-old." Regina accuses, leaning up far enough to kiss the tip of Emma's nose. "I suppose you're going to make me say it."

"We have vays of making you talk," Emma teases, like a terrible Bond villain. It makes Regina long for another impromptu movie night, when Emma gets bored halfway through and starts grilling Regina on the tactics of the bad guys, much to Henry’s amusement. What Regina is supposed to know about the efficacy of guns and bombs is beyond her, but she plays along every time, sniffing at the amateurism. But then came Robin, and child-friendly movies for Roland, and suddenly Emma doesn't stay when she drops Henry off anymore.

Yes, Emma teases, but those ever-changing eyes are like a moodstone to Regina. She's come to appreciate the neutrality of when they're gray, to challenge the coldness of Emma's anger when they shift towards the bluer end of the spectrum. Right now they're fiercely green, almost crowding out the other colors as the foliage surrounding them draws out the tones of the earth in both of them. Green is reserved for times when Emma laughs, or when she watches Henry, and yes, Regina has noticed in quiet moments, so frequently when Emma looks at her, too.

"I love you," Regina says, squeezing her eyes shut to make the admission. She always looks away these days when forced to inflict pain on someone; staring them down takes a mania she can no longer draw upon. "I'm sorry, but I do."

"Don't apologize," Emma grunts, her voice almost too husky to understand. But her voice is a frequency that Regina is tuned to now, and somehow she deciphers every word. "Don't you dare."

"Why not? Not many people would welcome my love. My love has ruined kingdoms, killed people, almost cost me my son..."

"Because I love you, too," Emma doesn't look away at first, but the enormity of her statement catches up to her, and she stares beyond Regina at some shrub or tree, because Emma has rarely given love and had it returned. Those words risk more than fighting any dragon or curse could ask of her.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“What are we going to do about it?” Regina demands, watching the birds swoop and soar overhead. It’s easy to believe they’re far removed from civilization, that there’s a chance for them in some other town where nobody knows their name, where those names aren’t shorthand for dark and checkered histories. 

“You could leave him,” Emma suggests, bold from the endorphins still coursing through her system. She’d been magnificent, backed against the tree that looms over them now. Jeans around her ankles, Regina’s tongue deft and insistent over Emma’s clit. Regina can still taste her now, regardless of the many kisses they’ve shared since. “I don’t really need to leave Killian. It’s only… it only happens because we’re in the same place.”

“It’s a terrible risk,” Regina says, after quiet consideration. She drags her nails through the dirt one more time, not caring what it will do to the perfect manicure she received only yesterday. “I can’t promise you--”

“I’m not asking for a promise.”

“You’d be entitled.”

“Think about it,” Emma sighed, detangling herself and getting up carefully to yank her clothes back into place. She offers a hand to Regina, ever the white knight, and soon they’re dressed and mostly cleaned up. “I really should go find that damn dog.”

“Oh, that’s why you’re out here?” Regina laughs. She hadn’t thought to ask. “Pongo?”

“Yeah. You’d think it wouldn’t be that hard to spot a giant Dalmatian, but he hates me.”

“Try this,” Regina says with a wink. She slips two fingers in her mouth, not suggestive for once, and whistles sharply enough to scare more birds from the surrounding trees. They both wait, water babbling somewhere nearby, and insects buzzing in the lazy way of late summer. Just as Emma turns around to mock, there’s a pounding of four feet against dirt, and Pongo launches himself into the clearing a moment later. He rushes towards Regina and she can’t bring herself to mind about muddy paws when she’s already been rolling around in the dirt herself. 

“Thanks,” Emma mutters, trying to pet Pongo and getting only bared teeth for her trouble. Regina grasps him firmly by the collar and he falls into step right away, the very picture of oversized, cartoonish obedience. 

“I’ll put him in your car,” Regina says as they walk back towards the trail. “Let you take the credit.”

“Sure.”

“Emma--”

“Regina--” They overlap, both thwarted by the scale of everything they’re trying not to say.

“I’ll talk to him.” Regina can’t offer more than that. “Maybe even the fairies, too. There might be a loophole. But I won’t hurt him. Don’t ask me to do that. There’s Roland to consider.”

“I won’t ask that. It might take, you know… kind of a fresh start?”

“When the going gets tough, Emma Swan gets going.” Regina knows the remark isn’t fair, not after a year and more of Emma staying when any sane person might have run. “Maybe you had the right idea all along.”

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Emma asks, their hands meeting as she reaches for Pongo’s collar, ready to bundle him into the back of the police cruiser like the canine criminal that he is. “I mean, maybe just coffee?”

“Coffee is a start,” Regina agrees. “Call me after lunch.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Oh, and Emma?” They’re already going their separate ways, plausible deniability in two separate and ancient cars. 

“Yeah?”

“Fuck destiny.” It’s the only way Regina can think to say it, to make the promise without saying so out loud. When Emma smiles in response, it’s the best answer Regina could ever receive.


End file.
